


A Home For You, For Me

by zach_stone



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh has been in love with Chris since the third grade, and that is how it’s always going to be. He hasn’t told him, but sometimes he imagines what would happen if he did. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>A birthday present for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/banhmi/pseuds/banhmi">Minh</a>!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Home For You, For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [banhmi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banhmi/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINH!!! I'm so glad we became friends; nothing bonds people like gays in a horror game. That and Ghost Adventures. ANYWAY we're both suckers for friends to lovers/confession fics, so I hope you'll enjoy this. 
> 
> (I promise I will stop swamping the Until Dawn tag with my fics.... eventually......)

Josh has been in love with Chris since the third grade, and that is how it’s always going to be. The swell in his chest and the racing of his heart are familiar to him after years and years, natural as breathing, easy as the smile that drifts across Chris’s face whenever their eyes meet from across a room. Being in love with Chris feels like home.

He hasn’t told him, because Josh doesn’t share feelings, not when they’re this big. He hasn’t told him, but sometimes he imagines what would happen if he did, if Chris felt the same way and everything clicked together like pieces that were meant to fall into place side by side.

Sometimes, when Josh imagines it, it’s like this:

 

They’re walking home from the beach, sand stuck to their damp legs and towels slung around their shoulders. Josh is smiling, feeling warm and sleepy, and Chris is bitching, because that’s what Chris does whenever Josh forces him to spend extended periods of time outside. 

“I’m  _ just saying _ , I don’t know why you’d wanna spend your day getting sand up your ass when we could’ve been playing Uncharted 4. That would’ve been a much more productive use of our time if you ask me.”

“I get it Chris, you want to fuck Nathan Drake,” Josh says, elbowing him in the ribs. Chris looks absolutely scandalized, and Josh cackles. “Chill, bro. We can play when we get home, and you can spend all the time with your pixelated lover boy that you want.”

“Shut up, you ass,” Chris says, blushing furiously, but he’s smiling. Josh’s laughter fades and they’re walking in companionable silence. Josh can feel Chris’s eyes on him, knows Chris is looking at him with that same fond expression he always has. 

“Wanna watch a movie tonight?” he asks, when he feels like his heart is going to burst out of his body from the adrenaline that comes with Chris’s undivided attention. Glancing sideways at his friend, he offers a crooked, hopeful smile. Chris nods.

“Yeah man, totally,” he says. “As long as you promise not to spend an hour afterwards deconstructing the entire film.”

Josh presses a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “How  _ dare _ you. You love my movie critiques, don’t even front.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You keep telling yourself that.” They go back and forth like this, teasing each other as always, and at some point it devolves into them smacking each other with their beach towels until finally they arrive at Josh’s house. They try to go inside but Mrs. Washington stops them with a stern look at their sandy arms and legs, and so they hose each other off in the lawn outside, Josh spraying Chris in the face and ruining his dumb faux-hawk. Chris retaliates, of course, and when they go inside at last they’re both dripping wet. Mrs. Washington is unamused. 

They play Uncharted 4, a game that Chris is spectacularly bad at, and then they go on Netflix and scroll through movies until Josh finds one that is action-packed enough to intrigue Chris and pretentious-looking enough to promise a wealth of things to critique when it’s over. They sprawl on Josh’s bed, lights dim except for the TV screen. They’re in their pajamas, legs kicked out behind them as they lay on their stomachs, and occasionally Chris will bump his foot against Josh’s. It’s a familiar gesture, comforting even as it sets off the butterflies in Josh’s stomach. This is how they operate; this is how it’s always been. 

When the movie ends, the credits rolling across the screen while soft music plays, Josh doesn’t look at Chris right away. At some point they’ve migrated to laying on their backs, so Josh looks up at his ceiling, watching the way the light from the TV casts dancing shadows above him. Chris is looking at him again, he can tell. He turns his head, meeting his friend’s gaze. Chris is watching Josh with something like curiosity, something like wonder. He feels exposed, like Chris can see right through his ribs, where his heart is pounding. 

“Good movie, huh?” he says, his voice coming out softer than he means it to. It feels wrong to break this silence with his usual banter.

“Mhm,” Chris hums. Almost without thinking, Josh rolls onto his side, and Chris mirrors his movement. Now they’re facing each other, nearly nose to nose. Josh smiles slightly. Chris reaches out his hand, fingertips touching Josh’s shirt. Josh cups the back of Chris’s neck, his thumb brushing against the side of his face. 

A pause. A shared breath. Chris tilts his head, ever so slightly, and their lips meet. And then Josh is kissing Chris, and his lips are soft and warm and gentle and every inch of Josh’s skin is exploding like tiny fireworks. All he can think is,  _ About damn time.  _

When they part, Chris is smiling, his fingers tracing lightly over Josh’s cheek, jaw, lips. Looking at Josh like he’s something to treasure, something miraculous that he can’t quite believe exists. It makes Josh want to melt, but instead he pulls Chris closer to him, nuzzling his face against the crook of his neck. It feels like home. 

 

Sometimes, when Josh imagines it, it is quiet and simple, no fanfare. Just Chris and Josh and a moment. But other times, when he’s in a more dramatic mood, he imagines it like this: 

 

They’ve been bickering on and off all day. It’s not their normal kind of bickering either, where there’s enough friendly teasing behind it for both of them to know it’s nothing serious. No, there’s something real going on here, and they’re both a little pissed. In between classes, they pick up where they left off, hissed arguments trailing down the halls until they have to part again.

“You’re being unnecessarily difficult,” Chris snaps, following Josh to his locker. Josh barks out a humorless laugh, swinging his locker door open and rummaging around for a textbook.

“I’m not being  _ anything _ , bro. You’re the one who won’t let it go.” He looks over at Chris, who is practically steaming. 

“Oh my god. Just tell me why you lied to me!” Chris demands. Josh snatches his book from his locker and slams the door shut, turning to face Chris. Anger burns in his chest, anger and betrayal and he feels selfish, but he can’t stop.

“I didn’t lie,” he says. And he didn’t, not exactly. 

“Bullshit! You avoided me all weekend, and don’t even try to tell me you were busy. I already asked Beth and she said that wasn’t true. I really wanted to see you! Why won’t you just  _ talk  _ to me?” Chris’s voice shifts from anger to pleading and Josh feels awful. He sets his jaw and pushes past Chris, hugging his book to his chest like a shield. “Where are you going?” Chris calls after him.

“I have class,” Josh says sharply. He wants to tell Chris that the reason he avoided him is because he heard through the gossip mill that Chris likes Ashley. That Chris went on a date with Ashley a week ago and never told Josh about it. Josh feels like his entire body is on fire, and he can’t even look Ashley in the eye without scowling, which he knows isn’t fair because it’s not her fault that she likes Chris, too. Who wouldn’t like Chris? He’s kind and funny and smells amazing and has dumb dreamy eyes that Josh could get lost in…. Fuck. He’s being petty and Chris doesn’t deserve this. Josh knows it, he  _ knows _ , but he feels like Chris has wounded him and now he wants to hurt him back. 

When the school day ends, it’s drizzling outside because of  _ course  _ it is, and Josh hurries across the parking lot to his car, parked in a discreet corner of the lot under a tree. Chris is standing in front of the driver’s side door, arms crossed. 

“Move outta the way,” Josh grunts. Chris shakes his head.

“We need to talk,” he says insistently. “You’re pissed at me and I wanna make things right but I don’t know what I did.” 

“You didn’t do anything,” Josh says, because it’s true. Chris doesn’t believe him, though, and he glares.

“Will you stop lying to me?” he says. Josh sighs, loud and frustrated.

“Get out of the way, Chris,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? It’s done. Fucking drop it.”

“Listen, bro, we can stand here in the rain all goddamn night, but you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on!” Chris says, stomping his foot like a little kid, and Josh can’t do it anymore, can’t hold it in.

He shouts, “You wanna know what’s going on, Chris? What’s going on is that you like Ashley and you guys went on a date and you didn’t even  _ fucking  _ tell me.”

Chris’s brow furrows in confusion. Clearly this isn’t what he anticipated. “You… what? Ashley? You’re mad at me because I hung out with Ashley?” 

“Yes! Well, no. Ugh!” Josh rakes a hand through his hair, and he can’t stop the words from spilling out of him. “I’m mad because you  _ like _ her, you dumbass, you like her and you don’t like me, and I’m fucking in love with you and it’s killing me! Okay? You happy?” His chest is heaving by the time he finishes, and Chris is gaping at him, arms uncrossing to fall limply at his sides. Josh tilts his head back and lets the rain fall on his face. He feels… better. Emptier. Terrified. 

He doesn’t expect Chris to step forward and pull his face gently down so they’re eye to eye. He doesn’t expect Chris to be smiling. He doesn’t expect Chris to kiss him, a firm press of the lips, Chris’s hand holding Josh’s chin in place. Their lips are wet from the rain and it’s awkward and slippery but Josh barely notices that because his brain is sort of short-circuiting.

“Josh,” Chris says, pulling back, and his voice is so kind, so tender, Josh wants to cry. Why is Chris being so nice when Josh has been a total ass all day? Why is he kissing him, when he could be kissing Ashley? “Josh, I don’t like Ashley,” Chris says.

“But… huh? You, you went on a date with her,” Josh says, blinking rain out of his eyes. His lips are tingling.

Chris laughs softly. “Uh, no. We went to a coffee shop to study for a math test together. Who told you it was a date?” 

Josh is reeling from this sudden shift in understanding. “Jessica? I think?” he manages. Chris rolls his eyes.

“Well, don’t believe everything Jess tells you. Or anything she tells you, to be honest. I’m pretty sure she’s one of those people who like, thinks everything she reads on the internet is a proven fact. She’s not the most reliable source of information.” Chris is talking so casually, like he doesn’t have his hand cupping Josh’s face and like he didn’t just kiss Josh out of the goddamn blue. Josh is having a hard time focusing on whatever Chris is babbling about.

“Dude, shut up. Did you just kiss me?” he says. 

Chris nods. “Yep. I did do that.”

“Why?”

“Oh my god, dude. Why do you think?” Chris shakes his head, smiling fondly, and Josh finally, finally gets it. 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ .” He can’t stop the stupid grin spreading across his face, and when Chris leans in to kiss him again, he’s ready for it this time. 

But really, he’s always been ready for this. Kissing Chris feels like coming home.

 

Sometimes, that’s the way Josh imagines it; with all the melodrama of a movie, complete with a rainstorm and a shouting match. But that’s not how it happens. This is how it happens: 

 

Chris bursts into the shed, looking horrified of what he might find inside, looking like he’s expecting to see a monster. But all that’s there is Josh, tied up to a pole, slumping as much as he can with his arms uncomfortably behind him. Josh, wearing overalls covered in pig blood and some of his own where it’s seeped through the wound on his shoulder. Josh feels like the monster Chris is waiting for.

But Chris doesn’t recoil from him. In fact, he rushes to him, a fierce look in his eye that is relief and panic at the same time. Josh registers vaguely that he’s holding a shotgun. Chris circles around behind Josh, working at undoing the plastic ties binding his wrists.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Josh stammers. “Where did Mike go? Who was screaming?”

“No time to explain,” Chris says. “It’s okay, everyone’s okay, we just have to get back to the lodge. Right now.” He gets the binds off of Josh, who brings his hands in front of himself and rubs his wrists. They’re red and raw, and Chris grimaces when he looks at them, like he’s ashamed of himself. Then he meets Josh’s eyes, and his expression shifts slightly. He steps forward and pulls Josh to his feet, gripping him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m an asshole.” 

Josh wants to argue that he was kind of the asshole first, but before he can say anything Chris is kissing him hard on the mouth. Josh doesn’t know what to do, how to react. His head swims. He wonders if he’s hallucinating. 

“Hurry up,” a gruff voice says in the doorway, and Chris releases Josh, looking a bit sheepish. There’s a man looming before them at the door, dirty and stern and carrying what looks like a goddamn flamethrower. Josh  _ has  _ to be hallucinating.

“We’re coming,” Chris responds, a tinge of irritation in his voice. He touches Josh’s shoulder. “Are you okay to walk? Josh? You with me?”

Josh blinks at him a few times, his mind sluggish. “Is this real?” he asks faintly.

“Oh Christ,” the stranger says. 

Chris is more forgiving. “It’s real, man. I promise, I’ll explain everything when we get back to the lodge, okay?”

Josh allows Chris to lead him out the door, and they follow the strange man up the path. Chris holds the shotgun, nervously shifting it from side to side. The stranger does not speak. 

“You... kissed me,” Josh says. Chris looks at him.

“Yeah.” He cracks a tired smile. “I was just really glad to see you. I, uh, kinda worried I’d be too late, and you’d be gone.”

“Where would I go? I was tied up,” Josh says. Chris starts to respond, but the stranger has stopped dead in his tracks. A strange hissing shriek and a rustling comes from the trees nearby. Chris pales considerably.

“Don’t move,” the stranger breathes. Chris grips Josh’s arm tight, and Josh, terrified and confused beyond all reason, stays still as the others. Something just out of his line of sight races past them, towards the shed. It moves jerkily, and he can feel the cold rush of air as it passes. It smells rotten and half-dead. Chris’s hand on his arm is painful. 

After what feels like an age of stillness, the stranger murmurs, “Let’s go, before it returns.” They pick up the pace. Josh has about two million questions. He doesn’t get to voice them, though, because something drops down in front of their path, something with hideously elongated limbs and a horrible maw of jagged teeth. Immediately, the stranger aims the flamethrower at it, fire blazing up like a wall between them and the creature.

Chris yells something like “Holy shit what the fuck oh my god what the fuck” and Josh can’t even find it in himself to say anything. His voice is stopped up in his throat.

The stranger shouts, “Get out of here!” and another jet of flames hits the monster. It screeches, skittering back, and Chris lifts the shotgun and fires. The kick nearly sends him to the ground, but his shot is good, and the creature flings back. The stranger urges them on, still aiming fire behind them. Josh doesn’t look back, just follows Chris and lets the hand on his arm keep him from veering off course. They run to the lodge and Ashley is at the door waiting to let them in. She looks relieved to see Chris, less so to see Josh, but he can’t blame her for that. 

“What the hell was that thing?” Josh asks as soon as they’re inside. The stranger locks the door behind them, squinting out into the night.

Chris’s hand on Josh’s arm slides down to twine their fingers together. “Something... bad,” he says, shuddering. “Let’s go to the basement, where it’s safe. I’ll tell you everything.” 

Josh just nods, and they hurry to follow Ashley down to the basement. Immediately he is overwhelmed — Sam is rushing towards him, grabbing at his arms and asking questions he can’t process. Mike hovers behind her, looking from Chris to Josh with a nervous, guilty expression. Emily is here, when did Emily get here?

“Where’s the flamethrower guy?” Sam asks Chris. 

“He’s upstairs. I uh, kinda figured we’d let him do his thing. We… had a little trouble getting back.” His hand is sweaty in Josh’s. 

“Did you see it?” Emily demands. “The wendigo, or whatever?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. Mike swears. 

“What was it like?” Ashley breathes. Chris shakes his head. Images of the monster flash through Josh’s mind, becoming more and more warped and twisted with every passing second. He has really and truly lost it this time. Everything feels like too much, too close. The only thing keeping him grounded is Chris’s hand. He whines in the back of his throat.

All attention snaps to him, and he cowers, pressing closer to Chris’s side. “Can we... talk about this later?” Chris says slowly. “I think we’re gonna go over here for a little bit. Um, this is just a lot to take in.” He walks Josh over to a secluded corner of the basement, and the others form a huddle on the opposite side of the room, their voices lowering to a frantic murmur. Chris sits on the ground, Josh beside him. He can’t stop shivering.

“Shit, you must be freezing,” Chris says, shrugging out of his coat and draping it around Josh’s shoulders. “We left you out there without a jacket, what the fuck.” Josh pulls the coat tight around him, breathing in the smell of pine and gunpowder and Chris’s body wash, still faintly clinging to the fabric. Chris places his hand on Josh’s knee. It feels solid, real, even if nothing else does.

He wants to say  _ I’m sorry  _ or  _ Are you okay? Were you scared?  _ but what comes out instead is the one truth that hasn’t left his mind since Chris came back to the shed, “I’m in love with you.” His voice sounds thready and broken and slurred in his ears, not what he expected. Chris sucks in a breath. Josh feels exhausted, angry tears spring into his eyes. “Sorry,” he says. He looks at Chris with blurry vision and then curls against him, burying his face against Chris’s shoulder. 

“It’s, it's okay,” Chris murmurs. “You’re okay.”

Chris takes his hand again and holds it until it stops shaking, and then Josh lifts his head and glances at the other side of the room. The others are still huddled together. They feel infinitely far away. Chris’s free hand moves slowly up and down Josh’s back.

“I love you too, you know,” Chris says, still speaking in that soft voice. He exhales, slow and shaky. “Damn it, Josh.”

They are quiet, curled together on the floor. This is nothing like Josh imagined telling Chris would be, nothing like he ever could have dreamed up even in his most fantastical fantasies. It’s messier, scarier, and he knows he’s fucked things up between them, but right now Chris is holding his hand and he feels like this is salvageable. He feels almost safe. Because with Chris, he’s home.


End file.
